The Hunger Games
by Simbasbro3457
Summary: 12 Males and 12 Females are forced to compete in the futuristic Hunger Games  24 Go in.  Only 1 comes out...  May the odds be in your favor!
1. Chapter 1:The Reaping

Seventy-five years ago, the 13 districts of Panam rebelled against the capitol, causing the catastrophe that would leave District 13 in ashes...

And so, it was decreed that one male and one female would represent their district in The Hunger Games.

Twenty-four go in,

and only one comes out.

May the odds be in your favor.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 1: The Reaping<strong>

* * *

><p><strong>Haley,District 11<strong>

I thrust my body forward , landing just inches above the ground . "Leon!" My hand was out stretched towards his. "Are you sure about this? If we're not back by Supper Tha—"

"Positive!" The sun was just rising above the horizon and today was sure to be a promising one.

"Don't you trust me?" I finished with a taunting smile. His head tilted to the side with a smirk as his body was thrown beside me. He slipped his hand in between mine grasping it tight. I wasn't quite sure why he was being so timid today; he was the risk taker not me. Yet somehow, I was eccentric for this day and he was rather frightened. If he wasn't so tall, I'd mistake him for a babbling five year old with all the complaints that were pouring out of his mouth.

"It's simple , all we have to do is place the pin in the envelope and deliver it to snow," I explained, "Think of it as a game of hide and seek. As long as we don't get caught ,we win."

"Bu-"

"No buts; don't you trust me?" I repeated this line often, seeming as it was always the center of his aggression. Every time we met up between districts, he'd start out about how fine we'd be.

"Don't you trust me?" He'd say with a rather nasty smirk on his face.

But now it's my turn for the over use of the word. I've been fed up with district eleven for years, I wanted to see the world beyond what I'd known. There were great walls that kept us trapped! Neither of us are wild animals waiting to be tamed, but if we were to be treated that way , than so be it. That is how we were to behave on the day of The Reaping.

* * *

><p><strong>Josh,District 8<strong>

The thought had crossed my mind last night that it could be the last night that I would lay beneath my own covers. Before falling asleep however, I had quickly shoved the thought out of my mind. Life is too short to sweat over the small stuff. The odds of me actually being selected were very slim (though the possibility still stood). So waking up this morning, I had promised myself to continue with the usual routines of the day, not taking a second to consider what my actual chances of safety were.

So this was it. This was the beginning of my day. Throwing the covers off my body I realized it was already late morning. Snatching my glasses off the side counter, I laid my suit for the evening off to the side. Nine o'clock. Only eight hours. The thought wouldn't stay out of my mind; it almost seemed impossible to evade. What if I selected to compete? What if Preliminaries were to begin today followed by the contest in the following weeks?

Norma must've sensed my agonizing thoughts, for the moment of my desperation, she was always there. Right then she had snuggled her furry head under my chin, purring gently as to ensure me everything would be alright. My glasses had fogged up and my throat was becoming dry. This environment wasn't safe for me anymore and that was my cue. I set Norma to the side, petting her one last time...rather for just today...right? I grabbed my shirt, slipping it over my brown hair. Maybe after this whole thing is said and done, I'll celebrate with a hair cut... that'd be a nice change.

* * *

><p><strong>Brian, District 1<strong>

This is it, the day I've waited for. Seventeen years of anticipation, yet somehow I've survived. Now I'd prove them all wrong. How long I've waited to spit in all their faces. To show them they were wrong. Mother warned me against it, but nothing could stop me now. My entire life I've only known one thing, and that is The Hunger Games. Not joining now, I'd miss out on the day I'd so longingly waited for.

From here on out I could play it perfectly. To gain sponsors, I'd try sex appeal, maybe even a wink. Kinda funny isn't it? Being born in this world to be worshiped by your peers; the same peers who gave you shit your entire life. I'll only laugh at them. One day they'll come pleading at my door for a drop of water, and I will simply spit in their mouth while sitting by, watching them take their final breaths.

There was one person who has supported me through this day though. My father. Though not legal here, the capitol overlooked the district when it came to training. He would take me into the woods every morning to practice my hunting. That's all this game would be, a hunting trip that would bring glory upon me like no other. Watching from a distance, more than ever I was determined to make him proud , and surely I would.

A grin appeared on my face as I had sent the hand crafted spear through the body of a young elk. My father shook his head in disapproval, seeing it was the day of the reaping and still I was not able to directly hit its heart. Angrily throwing a rock at the animal's head, I turned away, ready for the games to begin.

* * *

><p><strong>Alex,District 7<strong>

I wonder what it's really like to have it all. What it's truly like to get the good end of this place. District Two oughta know, right? I mean what do they do with all that money anyways? Not the back breaking labor we do here, that's for sure. There's no doubt in my mind that if we were favored by President Snow, then someone as young as me wouldn't be condemning my life to work every day at only nine in the morning.

Nine...This day seemed like just yesterday. I really hate this day. Not only do you have to survive the constant anxiety attacks, but if you're not chosen then what's to celebrate? The fact that we'll be raising our glasses to one young man and woman who will be dead by this time next week. Not very comforting, if you ask me.

I was hacking my axe against the wood at a rather aggressive pace this morning. Angrily chopping away at the thought of having to dine over today's events. It was so sickening. I don't think anyone would be in the mood to dine but "they" make sure you want something to celebrate over. If we weren't starved three hundred and sixty four days a year then maybe we wouldn't strive for their pity food.

The sound her boots made were more recognizable than a moo from a cow. Her right hand was in her pocket, the other on her hip. I smiled at her knowing this was the closest thing to happiness that I'd receive all day.

"Snagged something from the bakery!" She tossed a slice of bread my way and plopped down on the ground, chowing down on her own.

"Didn't your parents every tell you not to steal?"

"Nope!" She laughed.

I sat down beside her, watching the sun rise slowly. In an hour's time, we'd be hacking away like usual, attempting to support a family that didn't appreciate it.

Krystal was small and scrawny, hair as black as her eyes. It seemed as though she was too innocent to have lived here all her life. Regardless, she still had the gloomy attitude that would stereotype her here, maybe even bad enough to make it seem like she escaped from district 12 at a younger age.

"Got bread for Sarah?"

She shook her head in reply. This brought my mood down once again. Sarah's first reaping was today and like mine she was probably scared shitless. I held out the remainder of my food and instructed Krystal to feed her younger sister when she returned home that evening. Hopefully, this would bring the young girl's spirits up, something we all needed on this horrific day.

* * *

><p><strong>Jonathon, District 3<strong>

What is there to be scared of? It's not like twenty-three psychos are a threat to someone from this district. Of course not. Living here is luxurious after all, and although technology has nothing to do with the arena's chosen each year, it would surely come in handy. Seriously, it's not even fair. We have shit here and they have careers. Not only will they receive so many bets it won't even be funny, but to top it all off, their sponsors will support them so much they'll be receiving gifts that will literally pile over their head.

It is what it is though. As my mom says, "Shit happens."

There is one thing they don't have though, and that's a six foot tall tribute named Jonathon. Not like I want to be chosen, but if I was, I suppose I'd have some edge in the intimidation category. We all know how far intimidation can go. To make a long story short, I would die on the first day. My odds aren't high if you think about it. Most people at sixteen have their name in five times, mine's only in twenty-four. Not much of a difference there.

I rolled my eyes at the thought. "Life isn't fair", as my mother would say. I guess I'm just holding a grudge.

Entry rules are stupid, for every year your name is put in once with the cumulative of the previous year's entries. Your name goes in from the time you turn twelve to your eighteen. Sounds fair, right? Wrong, because the poor kids have to put their name in more to earn a year's supply of Teressa.

This is where our stupid president of this stupid district would say, "We provide safety, shelter, food, and security." Which is where I reply: "No, you give us three choices. A. We starve to death. B. We put our name in a couple dozen times and then go and get killed in an arena anyways. Or my personal favorite , C. We go out and kill strangers in your sick minded game, but in the end, get more fucked up than we were before. Wow. Thanks for the safety and security!"

* * *

><p><strong>Alex, District 7<strong>

"We could do it you know," I said , thinking of pleasant dreams.

"Hm?" Krystal replied, mouth stuffed with berries.

"Get out of this place," I continued, "Just run. Haven't you ever considered what it's like out there?"

"Yea right," she responded, "We wouldn't make it five miles, and even if we did, where would we go?"

"I dunno."

She had a point. There wasn't much beyond this, especially since district thirteen was destroyed. Dreaming doesn't hurt though. It's the only way the two of us survive out here. "As long as you have a dream to reach out to you'll never lose yourself." That's what my mom used to tell me, but now my only dream is to bring her back, and how the hell am I gonna reach that? Once she died, she left me with an alcoholic father who beats the shit out of me.

I guess I've learned a few pointers from it though. Plus I'm in charge of cooking now, so you could say I'm pretty handy with a knife.

When I glanced beside me, Krystal was gone. She hollered from a nearby tree, throwing an apple down towards me. It's weird how she does that. She's a really sneaky hider, as well as an extremely fast climber.

"Worthy adversary," I said jokingly, as she plopped back down, "You are truly a marvelous opponent in the games"

Holding a stick up to her mouth, pretending it was a microphone, she spoke into it, "Well, Caesar, if you haven't noticed, my greatest advantage is definitely intimidation."

We both laughed, Caesar being the host of the interview show. Krystal wasn't scary at all, of course. We'd both discussed about what it'd be like to be in there. The conclusion was the same for the two of us: we'd be dead before the first cannon rings in our ears. We're both scared out of our minds, but stress is something we've discussed all week. Both of us are anxiety freaks ,so any mention of the reaping being near is enough for us to piss our pants at the very thought.

"Wanna play a game?" I said tossing my apple seeds away.

"I don't know...does it involve jigsaw?" I smiled, she knew very well what game we were about to play.

"So this guy was madly in love with this girl." I started.

"But he was married," She finished.

I was always in charge of the "so", and she always had the "but". That's just how we operated.

"So he killed the old bitch."

"But she came back to haunt him."

"So he killed himself."

"But was unsuccessful."

This game could go on for hours at a time if we wanted it to, and on a day like this, we wanted it to.

* * *

><p><strong>Jonathon, The Forest<strong>

The sun was high now and based on its position, it was late noon. I was really hoping for a hearty meal before the reaping, but it doesn't look like that'll be happening. Not even a damn rabbit. My tempers were running high and it was barely noon. Not a good start to this ever so joyous day. I made more traps, tying the knots perfectly, waiting so patiently for the sign of one measly animal before I got caught and was turned into an avox.

Thinking of it, I hate hunting. Not only was it illegal, but it was something my father used to do. That pissed me off more than anything to believe that I'd end up doing something like my father. Luckily for me, I'll never have to meet him, and they don't usually air re-runs of The Hunger Games. What really sucks though is that he isn't dead. My father is the victor of the 61st Hunger Games. Nothing scar opening or mortally wounding occurred in the games, rather what a sick bastard he was. Ruthlessly killing for fun, torturing girls that were merely twelve years old; it was disgusting from what my mother has told me.

If I was in the arena though, how would I play it? Hunt or flee? I think both. I'd need time to plan it out so I'd do a mixture of hunting down my competitors, but not even attempting to kill them. No, that would only get me dead faster. I'd observe from the background. The viewers would know me as a genius because I wouldn't win for my strength, my height, nor my intimidation.

I would win for my brains. I'm certain I could outsmart them all.

* * *

><p><strong>Haley, The Capitol<strong>

The envelope was placed on his door mat before we booked it out of there. If it were up to me, I'd be back on the train already, but Leon was too slow. Or I was too fast, one of the two.

"Come on pick up the pace boy!" I couldn't help but laugh, something about the realization that if he didn't move faster, the peace keeps would catch us. It gave me a sense of reality though.

"Haley, slow down!"

Our faces were covered with ski masks which would have no effect if he screamed my name any louder. I nudged him in the stomach which gave him a startle that knocked him off his feet, somewhere in the process his mask had fallen off, and he was now too flabbergasted for words. Throwing my jacket off, I tossed it on his head, guiding him to the train by holding tightly onto his arm. The peace keepers were not only aware of who we were now, but they were rushing to catch us.

For a brief second it, had crossed my mind that they would catch us and cut out our tongues. I didn't want to be an avox, so I didn't let the thought process fully before speeding up, practically dragging Leon behind me. The three o'clock train was about to head out. The coal miners were about to return home for District Twelve, Leon's home. My district, eleven, was on the way, of course.

With my heart about to pound out of my chest, I practically threw Leon onto the back of the train car, but I was too late. The train had left the station and was now speeding down the tracks. I had to catch up before the train gained too much ground. Five o'clock and the reaping would begin. If I didn't make it time, and was absent from the required event, I'd be a dead girl walking!

Leon's curly hair was going every which way as the train sped up, blowing mine all over as well. He held his hand out toward me in a panic, signaling for me to jump. I was scared though. There was no guarantee that I would survive the jump. He must've noticed my sudden change of expression for he smiled and asked, "What's wrong? Don't you trust me?"

I shook my head and smiled, jumping into his arms. We were now speeding towards the districts. The peace keepers now a good distance between us, only becoming moving white dots. We were spared.

I don't think it crossed our minds till then, but districts 11 and 12 were the poorest districts, meaning we needed much Teressa for our families, as well as each other. Our dangers were just beginning, for if either of us were to be chosen for the reaping, I doubt we'd survive. And what about the other? Could I really let Leon go when I wasn't even sure what feelings I truly harvested for him?

That's when it happened. That's when I began to pray, a rare thing that I had only done in my most desperate times. I didn't pray for my safety however, rather for Leon's, that his name wouldn't be drawn. His name was entered a considerable amount more than mine, and even if I was picked, I don't think it'd rip my heart out to know that everything in his life would be okay. We were eighteen and it was our final year in the drawing. Surely, he would be ok.

Regardless of the future that may be in store for me, I had made my statement very clear to President Snow, and that was that I wasn't a toy in his stupid games nor would I stand for this any longer. It was time he knew that with a simple Mockingjay pin; a sign of the days of our rebellion against the capitol.

* * *

><p><strong>Josh, The Lake<strong>

I'm not sure if we're supposed to swim here, but it's a good escape sometimes. The feeling of being under water is so soothing to me. I like to pretend I'm in a world beneath our very own, gasping for breath only when needed.

Over the years I've been coming here, it almost feels like more of a home than my own. All day, my parents tend to the peace keepers, babying them hand and foot. So it's usually just me and Norma, and well.. Norma can't actually talk, though I think it'd be really cool if she could.

Down here though, I have a fish tank of my very own, Recognizing each and every fish, all the wildlife, the plants down here along with their different remedies. This is how my day goes until I dread the time I have to leave. The time when the sun sets among us all.

To be honest, I'm a creature of the night, but I hate that feeling when the sun sets. When night falls, it's silent; and your surroundings envelop you with the truth of the darkest corners of your mind. Loved ones you fear for, the friends you don't have, or even what happens beyond death. If I were to die tonight would I actually end up in Heaven? It's why I escape sleep for as long as possible, till the moment I can't keep my eyes open. It's why I'm so unfitting to this world. How can I stay up so late into the night but hate it so much?

That's why I come here. Underwater, eyes closed, I can almost trick myself into thinking I'm in a world unfamiliar to me; one the human eye is yet to see. Around four today, my final trip below comes, and I'm forced to come above the world I call mine.

The trip back home isn't long. I slip on my shirt and button it up to my neck, before fastening my tie. My mother laid out suspenders, but with my glasses, I just look like the biggest dork in the entire district, and that's saying something. Regardless, I follow my mother's unwritten rule: "Never wear a tie without suspenders." And God knows where she came up with that, but she did.

Kissing Norma's sleeping little body, I head out for my third reaping. My name will be in there six times. Only six. I shouldn't be picked today, right? It's four-thirty when the fear crosses my mind that this could be my last sun set in district 8.

* * *

><p><strong>Jonathon, The Forest<strong>

The sun shined through the trees as the sky began to dim into a faded pink. With sun set near, the reaping isn't far behind, and I now know I must get dressed and head back to the district for an event that is almost too exciting to bear. My watch read four forty-five.

* * *

><p><strong>Koy, District 1<strong>

Arriving back from the woods, I carefully brushed my hair, wanting to look my best for the televised appearance. Four-fifty and my parents were rushing me out the door, mother worried and father ever so proud. I wonder what they'll think of me after I've become a ruthless killer?

* * *

><p><strong>Alex, District 7<strong>

"Here," I said, smiling.

Krystal's face had lit up at the sight of her new green dress.

"How did yo-"

"Doesn't matter," I cut her off, "Happy reaping. And may the odds be with you."

We both laughed and with this, the time was four fifty-five. The two of us hurried home to get dressed and head out for the event.

* * *

><p><strong>Haley, District 11<strong>

Leon was still on the train when I hopped off. I worried if he would be late, but more than that, I feared that I would. Without getting dressed or having time to curl my hair, I was now sprinting towards the town center where the names were to be read. However, by the time I had gotten there, everyone's eyes were on me, the clock just hitting six o'clock.

If my mother wasn't in the distance, I would've thought she had died earlier that day based on the looks I was getting from the other teens. Something was wrong. That's when it happened. Someone's hands were placed on my shoulders. They were wrinkled and old, as well as bony. They were the hands of none other than President Snow's.

"Dear old girl, would you mind explaining to us why you were so late on such an important evening such as this?"

I shook my head, flabbergasted and shocked. Snow was never seen outside the capitol, let alone in District Eleven.

"I-It's just," I was stuttering now, desperately pondering through my head for a desperate excuse, trying to pretend that he knew nothing of the sign of rebellion earlier today, "I overslept. Very late night, last night. Too anxious for the big day." That was good, rather believable.

"So you'll be volunteering today?" Darn it. This guy was good, and I was not. I had only dug my hole deeper.

Before I could think of another lie, Snow threw his right hand in the air and snapped his fingers, "Actually, my dear girl, there will be no need to volunteer this year."

To my right, there was a gasping crowd that was spreading like a flu. Through it emerged several peace keepers, two of which were holding a whimpering Leon.

* * *

><p><strong>Koy, District 1<strong>

Larry Jules stood at the podium, excited as ever for the games. After the governor had finished his speech and two previous victors were welcomed to the stage, I began glancing through the female crowd on my left, looking for any possible tributes. Not a very big turn out this year on their side, the more intimidating females are all over the age eighteen I suppose.

There was however one that stood out in particular. Her name was Vittoria Ello, the butcher's daughter. She knew every ligament of an animal's body, and quite frankly, wouldn't be such a bad ally to have on your side in the games, and I could tell she had the same look in her eyes I did, ready to volunteer as tribute.

I laughed, probably louder than I should have, based on all the nasty given looks from the other boys, who were probably more nervous than I was. It couldn't be helped. If she was the best female district one had to offer, then a male would be winning the 76th Hunger Games.

The governor, as fat and repulsive as he might be, was still in charge of the district. Therefore, I unfortunately had to respect him. Larry began his speech that reapings started with; a speech of the capitol dominance over our districts, like a boring history lesson of Panam.

* * *

><p><strong>Haley, District 11<strong>

We were not supposed to know of citizens from other districts, let alone speak to them on a daily basis. It crossed my mind that President Snow had discovered we were the ones who put the Mockingjay in front of his office door. Not only had we jumped on the train illegally to get to the capitol, spoken to someone outside of our district, and ran from the peacemakers, but in the process, we managed to spit in Snow's face, enraging him like no one else could ever do.

Yet somehow, I attempted one last lie, "I don't know the boy."

"Oh no?" Snow replied sarcastically. As he was walking over to Leon, he ran his hands curiously through the boy's hair as if wondering what he should do with him. I became vastly worried, hoping someone would either come to our rescue or start the drawing already.

Snow had swiftly thrown Leon to the ground and stomped on his legs, before moving up his body. I remained expressionless, knowing very well that if it was discovered we had spoken to each other on a regular occasion, we'd be put to death immediately, along with our families. The harder I tried however, the more tears I was required to choke down. His body like a rag doll, arms flailing in every which direction as snow's foot moved up towards his chest. It was then tjat a single tear rolled down my cheek, Snow very aware now that I knew him, however he wanted me to say it. He wanted me to admit my defeat to him. He then proceeded in slamming his foot down on Leon's chest as hard as he possibly could, blood spurting from his mouth and into the air.

"No, stop!" I screamed, choked up in my own desperation.

The man hesitated for a second before waving his hand at the peace keepers, who in return, dragged Leon's beaten body up to the stage, where two glass bowls were filled with hundreds of names. One would be the male tribute of District Eleven, the other female.

"Seventy-five years ago, the thirteen districts attempted to rebel against Panem and its capitol!" Snow exclaimed, "Out of which, a war was spawned and a new breed of birds created! Jabber Jays, birds that could mimic each and every word in one's house hold. However, the capitol was tricked and fed faulty information, which led to the new breed, a mix of a mocking bird and a jabber jay, Mockingjays! A spit in the face of a bird that should've never been if jabber jays were a successful creation. This morning, I found this left at my door."

As Snow held up the Mockingjay pin, gasps erupted from the crowd.

He continued, "A sign of rebellion from district Eleven's very own...Haley Huss!"

It was now clear what trouble we were truly in. The crowd gave looks of disapproval, now knowing the capitol would punish my actions by depriving the entire district of basic life necessities. The only thing I could hope for was the safety of Leon and his family.

"He had nothing to do with this, I swear!" I blurted out without thinking first.

"It's caught on tape darling," Snow replied, "Anymore brute lies?"

Hanging my head in shame, Snow began to speak once again, "Would you like to finish Panam's history for us?"

Looking up, some of the older crowd members were crying. Younger teens sobbed in their parents' arms, and it was all my fault. To my side was a beaten Leon, bruised and tired. No. This wasn't my fault. All cameras were now on me. This would be televised as part of the preliminaries, and I would ensure Snow would receive what he deserved.

"Gladly..." I said under my breath before turning to face the crowd as if starting a riot, "I do not tell lies, but here's one your precious president has fed you for years!"

Snow's face was enraged, and if it weren't for the fact that death was in my near future, no matter what I did or said, I wouldn't have continued, "As a result of the war, District Thirteen was destroyed under the hands of your ruler! Parents with young children were punished and forced to send any child between the ages of twelve and eighteen to a televised game in which you watch your child be tortured by the career tributes in districts one, two, and four! Where's the safety? The security? Panem may be the last part of earth anyone will ever see but why should we stand by and watch out families die? I will no longer have the games waved over my head as a sign of resentment! If I had lived then, I would've made sure that was made clear for the survivors of district thirteen, because I will fight to the death to ensure I'm not a puppet, nor will I be controlled by their measly game!"

The reaction from the crowd was not one I expected. Instead, it erupted in cheers.

An angry Snow turned me around and pinned the Mockingjay on my shirt. Forcing me to his left and Leon to his right, it hit me. I was speaking for Leon as well. I screwed his life, his family, and his district over. Yet somehow, he held my hand and smiled behind the old hag's back. The look in his eyes, however, gave it away.

The words that were to come out of the president's mouth were worse than death itself. Worse than we could've ever imagined. Yet the look in Leon's eyes spoke to me. He knew the rules were about to change. This year's Districts' Eleven and Twelve tributes wouldn't all be drawn from a glass bowl. No, instead one male and one female were to be declared right here and right now. Grasping our free wrists, he held them to the air in anger and spoke the words that would hush that crowd for a long time:

"I give you one male and one female tribute from districts Eleven and Twelve!"

* * *

><p><strong>Koy, District 1<strong>

"I volunteer as tribute!"

The words spoken were so fast, yet so subtle. The crowd erupted with cheers. One member, however, was sobbing, that being my mother. As I stood on stage beside the female tribute , a grin spread across my face, from cheek to cheek.

"I give you the tributes of District One, Koy Darin and Vittoria Ello!" Larry had said, raising our hands into the air.

There was only one thought going through my head: "Let the preliminaries begin."

* * *

><p><strong>Jonathon, District 3<strong>

Effie Trinket approached the podium, which was a bit strange considering she was strictly assigned to District Twelve, but I figured she must've been promoted.

"Hello, hello!" she began, "Welcome to District Three's drawing for one brave male and female tribute! Oh, how exciting indeed! You all look especially cheery for this ever so special occasion!"

Um...what? Cheery? We look cheery? How is that even possible? I mean, there's nothing that puts a smile on my face more than a nice discussion of whether I'm going to be someone's chewing bone or not! Yippee! But seriously, there are sobbing mothers and worried children in the crowd. Who the hell did this chick have for English? This isn't cheery!

The woman with pink hair, that seemingly enough looked like a wig, went on and on about the history of Panam, followed by the mayors speech that continued the history of Panam and how The Hunger Games originated.

As Effie approached the podium once again, she spoke clearly and loudly, as if the room was full of a whole bunch of deaf people that she thought would miraculously hear again through her voice.

"Well, well, ladies and gentlemen, why don't we get this show on the road?" She giggled after saying this. If you were blind and could only hear her voice, you'd assume she was a teenage girl. A really annoying teenage girl.

"May I welcome the male tribute's coach for the competition! Victor of the 61st Hunger games, James Malverk!"

I rolled my eyes at this, the gloating bastard was stumbling across the stage with a smirk on his face as if he had just won a million fucking dollars. He then followed this by raising his hands towards the sky and bobbing them upwards, which by the way is definitely not a stupid dance craze. The crowd erupted for some really strange reason. I guess being an asshole really does get you far in life.

After the crowd closed their damn mouths, the God forsaken man sat down in a chair situated at the end of the stage, followed by the female tribute's victor, Jenna Carol. Effie walked, or dare I say strode to the girl's bowl on the right.

"The time has come! The female tribute of district 3 is..." Shuffling her hand around in the bowl she finally settled down enough to take her damn hand out and read the slip of paper, "Nathalie Meielle!"

Although Effie had a reason to be happy, that being her obvious promotion, Nathalie sure as hell didn't! Ever seen a six foot tall sixteen year old guy cry for his mommy? Well you sure as hell would have it were me! Nathalie's reaction however was far different. Through her soothing voice, she told her sobbing family she would be fine, then carefully instructed them on house hold chores needed to be done in her absence. She almost puts me to shame.

"Now that's how you welcome the games with open arms!" Trinket said, welcoming the young girl on to the stage.

Coming to think of it, I knew who this girl was. We were biology partners once, in fact. Yes, those were the days… before I knew she was a brutal killing machine! Who the hell smiles at being chosen for the Hunger Games when they're in district three?

After Effie had ensured Nathalie's family she still had a one in twenty-four shot in living, which only made them cry more, she pranced across the stage, even cheerier after Nathalie threatened to rip her optimistic badge off her chest. As she approached the bowl and put her hand in, my mind was racing with a thousand thoughts at once. For the first time today it really hit me and hit me hard. I could be chosen to compete.

I didn't apply for Teressa, but even then, I still have a shot at being chosen. We all did. It only took one entry. One second to change everything. Effie pulled the paper out, holding it to the heavens as if to bless the sorry guy who was about to fight it out against twenty-three other teenagers.

If I was in the arena could I even kill? Sure, I could survive longer than some, but when it came down to it, running away won't get me the win, and in the hunger games if you're not first, you are literally as good as last. As she unfolded the paper with her prestigious little nails, James Malverek was peering over her shoulder with his signature grin. Something, however, happened in that moment that wiped the smile clear off the old man's face. Whispers were quickly exchanged in a rush of panic between the two. Fear was setting in my gut, heart pounding so hard I could hear it through my ears. Effie perched her mouth as my father gave me a look of guilt and sorrow. Trinket's tone was no longer uppity nor nit picky but rather bland. The words she spoke sent my heart straight out my ass.

I, Jonathon Malverek, was going to have to kill Nathalie Meielle.

* * *

><p><strong>Josh, District 8<strong>

"Nourhan Amr!"

The girl with jet black hair was petrified. She looked absolutely terrified, but somehow calm, almost like the stage was where she belonged.

Belonged…

Her parents were crying. Every year, the tributes parents were crying. The children who were at risk, their parents were crying! So where are mine? Not here. What if I was chosen? What would that mean? Would I just disappear? Is a tie and suspenders truly the only gratitude I get from my mother? Today could be the last day I ever see her and she's not even fucking here! Well now If I get picked at least I know there's someone who will regret not getting to know me, but I don't want just one person; I want them all to see.

People train their entire lives for this event and me… I'm just me. I'm just here on earth. The best time of day is truly when I'm under water, trying to make the fish happy. Is that it? Is that all there is to my life? Making others happy? What about me? What about my happiness?

When I was eight years old, I remember finding my sister lying on the floor, stone cold. Guess who had to face the reapings alone as well? My mother cried for days and my father… My father was never so sad in his life. She killed herself and my mother made me promise to never do the same. I would never do the same of course. But all I want is a little attention. It's like my own parents aren't showing up to my funeral. That's really messed up.

Nourhan stood on the stage so bravely, so boldly. How could she face death with such a calm greeting? The next name was drawn and I so anxiously waited for my name to be called out, but it wasn't. I was now safe, I could now go home.

Home? Where was home? Under the water I guess, but I couldn't go there this late. It'd be too cold. It was just about dark, just about the time to face my thoughts. The young man known as Hector Armada began to walk towards the stage, and that's when I knew.

I was sick of having no purpose. Sick of not being able to do anything with my life. Most of all though, I wanted to do something more than feed a cat named Norma. Nothing was heard but the boy's sobs. That's when I did it. I put my arm in front of the boy, blocking him from his destiny.

Nourhan's parents were not her parents. I remember her parents, they were the nicest people in the world. They died in district twelve over a mine accident and left her here. With her aunt and uncle in some God forsaken district ruled by the arrogant and cocky President Snow. Now I get it. Her bold move; her amazing composure.

I lifted my head up, all eyes were on me, the cameras now flashing. I took my slow and tedious walk towards the stage as the fellow teens rose their three fingers towards us.

* * *

><p><strong>Alex, District 7<strong>

I was now sure of it. I was going to be chosen and start sobbing there for gaining no bets and no sponsors. All the time I've spent with Krystal she promised me that I wouldn't be picked and I returned that vow. However, there's really no telling. Today would be the first day of my slowly torturous death. That's what was running through my head while I was pacing the town center looking for Krystal. Instead, I found a small girl gripping onto a plush doll.

"Sarah!" I knelt down and asked the girl where her sister was. She pointed behind her as Krystal was sprinting towards us both in the very dress I had brought her for the reaping. She picked up the girl with the plush doll and held her tight. It was kinda humorous since they were all holding something, but I didn't say anything because I was afraid that if I talked too much, I'd end up puking all over the crowd.

As we were gathering with the town's people in front of the stage, Sarah began to cry. Krystal told her it was impossible to be chosen because she only had one entry but that didn't make it impossible, and Sarah saw through that little white lie.

I had to separate myself from Krystal and Sarah and go to the boy's side. This was probably for the best, considering no one was even chosen and I was already choking down tears. The girl reminded me of me when I was twelve, crying in a siblings arm, a brother promising neither would be chosen even if they knew it wasn't true.

I found myself praying for the millionth time today. Praying that the sisters would stay strong through each other and survive this reaping and the ones to follow. If only I prayed for my brother and I things might've been okay. They weren't though. My brother was fifteen years of age and I was merely 12. My first reaping and the sheer terror of my name being drawn.. to get your name out of the reaping, you would have to be in the games, not just be drawn. If you were drawn twice, you'd just have the worst luck in the world, meaning if I were to be drawn again today, then I messed up somewhere along the way and someone was intent to watch me die on their TV screen.

Raymond Dills began the repetitive introduction that was given every year. After this, he walked over to the male's bowl. He was a really boring person to be an announcer though, so I couldn't help but wonder if he used to be a higher ranking district mayor until he got demoted.

Horrible scenarios were already running through my head. I couldn't kill a twelve year old was the first, then I couldn't kill an eighteen year old. Then I concluded that I don't like camping so that wouldn't work either. Still, I was trying not to count myself out, but at the same time, all the scenarios I went through ended in my death, so I decided to think about something else. In the end, I imagined that I lived far away from Panam in a place where the sun always shined. Raymond circled his hand above the papers before plucking one out. My heart beat faster and faster as I tried imagining something better, 'cuz a little sunshine had to cut it. My mom...My mom was alive again, so was my brother. We were all together and so my dad never had to start dirnking. Never been bruised, never picked up a kitchen knife. It was a fantasy land in my mind.

"This year's male tribute of District Seven..."

But none of that was true and reality dawned in. My mother was executed by the capitol for illegal hunting, my father an alcoholic, and my brother was brutally murdered by none other than the victor that was to be the male's coach, brutally strangled by someone who had led him on and told her she loved her, that was her strategy. As reality dawned in and the name read, the sun was covered by the clouds that really stood and the rain that was now falling. If that was her twisted strategy that gave her the win, then what would be mine?

At first, I didn't want to believe it. I wanted to push it aside and go back to the heavenly place that once existed. That wasn't how things worked though. The crowd parted as Mayor Dills stood expectantly, waiting for me to walk onto the stage. My feet, however, refused to move. I prayed harder, praying to wake up from the nightmare that always haunted, the nightmare that told me what would've happened if my place wasn't taken by my brother.

However this time it was no dream. There was no waking up. Sarah was now full on sobbing. The camera's on me, and as I approached the stage, the crowd erupted in whispers. Whispers of my previous drawing, the coach being my brother's murderer, but most of all, whispers on how brave I was acting. Bravery, however, had nothing to do with it. I wasn't brave. Maybe if I was, I wouldn't have let my brother volunteer. Now my fate was inevitable, my brother watching from heaven above, and God as my witness. I was the male tribute destined to die in the 76th Hunger Games. Maybe for the first time things would be alright; away from an alcoholic father and back with my mother and brother. Things dawned on me that this may have been the answer all along.

However, like usual, I was wrong. For the name Raymond Dills read was not Krystal Kel's. No, it was worse. The female tribute of District Seven was Sarah Kel. She was now sobbing and walking as slowly as possible. She wouldn't be walking at all if the peacekeepers weren't dragging her to the stage.

Krystal stood for a second in shock. Once the thought processed, she turned to the side, not running rather walking at a normal pace. Her face wasn't sad, wasn't devastated, just expressionless. She had a duty to fill and that duty was filled indeed. Each crowd member she walked past would put their three middle fingers to their lips, raising them towards her. The peacekeepers stopped as well and watched her walk forward. Sarah's shrieks had stopped as her sister walked. She lifted her head towards me, as our eyes met she finally broke, halfway to the stage, she stopped and with a cracking voice said:

"I volunteer as tribute."

Krystal then fell to the floor, sobbing. It was too much for me. Too much to think that in a week's time I'd have to kill one of the closest things to family I'd ever had. Loving her like a sister, then killing her. Turns out my strategy would be no different from the bitch who murdered my brother.

* * *

><p><strong>Koy, District 1<strong>

Hands pressed to their lips, three fingers were raised in every direction. The gesture signaled compassion and care for someone. It was used only in the most desperate times. The monster I was to become, this gesture wasn't for me. It was for the lovable and beautiful Vic. She waved and winked and flirted, her mind set was just right. I turned away, angrily realizing my father was angry. I hadn't waited and my mother sad that I'd done it at all. Where was my support? Where were my three fingers? I'd make sure to show them all that they made a mistake, make sure to show them they're the reason Vic will be the first to die.

* * *

><p><strong>Jonathon, District 3<strong>

I turned to face Nathalie, still in shock. The girl turned around and as soon as she did, the smile disappeared from her face. She was no longer the confident girl she had appeared to be. She was crying. Approaching the girl, I wrapped my arms around her, trying to appeal to the audience how friendly I could be, but deep inside the girl, as well as I, knew what I was truly gesturing.

Feeling her body shaking in my arms made her cry more. She now appeared weak to the audience. Because of me, her sponsors were no longer going to help her. I fucked it up for her and that felt terrible. The crowd went silent at that moment, raising their fingers for the condemned girl.

* * *

><p><strong>Josh, District 8<strong>

Fingers remained raised amongst the crowd. Is this it? This is the beginning of my despair. This was my last thought as the flashing cameras blinded my view from District Eight.

* * *

><p><strong>Haley, District 11<strong>

The crowd was silent, some crying for us. Leon was being dragged away from me, still grasping my hand tightly. I knew it was bad for sponsors, but I sobbed regardless, showing my weakness to the public. Through my tears, I screamed, "Don't let go!"

In reply he said, "Everything is going to be okay!"

I shook my head, in which he tilted his head, one tear rolling down his cheek, asking, "Don't you trust me?"

No, I didn't. The situation was clear and that was that we were about to be forced to kill each other. The crowd pressed their fingers to their lips before raising them up, just before Leon's hand was ripped away from mine.

* * *

><p><strong>To Be Continued...<strong>


	2. Chapter 2: One

Seventy-five years ago the thirteen districts of Panam rebelled against the capitol causing the catastrophe that would leave district Thirteen in ashes...

And so it was decreed that one male and one female would represent their district in the Hunger games.

Twenty-four go in,

and only one comes out.

May the odds be in your favor.

* * *

><p>Chapter Two: "One"<p>

* * *

><p><strong>Josh, District 8<strong>

Every moment of every day we are faced with hundreds of decisions. Which road we take is our choice, however. In the end we always come back to the spot we started in, the crossroads of destiny. To go or not to go? Love or hate? So if we're always faced with one decision after another, how different are they? Opening up new paths to your destiny until we meet the inevitable end; the one place you now know there is nowhere else to run. Each second is a deciding factor of when this end comes, whether it be sooner or later.

Have you ever truly thought about it? How one second can change everything? There is one moment in your lifetime that decides everything; from that very second to the last minute you breath. This was my second. The flashing lights, the fingers, the bows of shame; knowing I had valiantly sacrificed myself to be devoured by twenty-three viciously dedicated tributes. Yet somehow it was perfect; like a dream almost.

I would not stop to consider the circumstances that were ringing in my ears, nor the fact that I'd soon be facing my killer face to face. No. Instead, I focused on the last moment of bliss that I'd soon be forced to cling on to and bring me into the coming of days. One moment, One path, One destiny.

* * *

><p><strong>Haley, District 11<strong>

The reality of my situation had not fully sunken in yet. The way I saw it is that I had to choose one of two options. The first being that I accept my death and the fact that President Snow will now make my time in the games hell, ensuring that I die in an excruciating way. However, quitting wasn't in my nature. Option two was the one I vastly preferred. Instead of deciding upon my death, I would stick to the positives; narrowing down which tributes would be easy to take on and which ones I should simply let fight it out with each other until I would be the last one standing. This option was taken more to heart, however it wasn't as realistic. Things that are tossed around in my head never come out right when the time comes for me to actually prove myself of worth.

Though many never realize it, the games have already begun. Though Ceasar Flickmen has not announced our arrival nor has the signaling canon rang in our ears, the cameras have been turned on and from here on out it was to be ensured every television in Panam was watching our performance beyond the games. In other words, who the stronger competitors were and who the weaker links were. Like with many things, bets would never be placed on the weak and as of now I was the weak, having cried my eyes over something as ridiculous as holding onto a boy's hand. My weakness was now overly exposed. No one would bet on a girl who cried over a boy. It proved when it came to killing I would be no expert.

A new approach had to be taken. Since being a threat was completely ruled out, the only way I stood any chance was to become a fan favorite. Cameras were going to be on me from here on out, and the second that my right foot hit the ground a strategy was to be formed. The peacekeepers were now rushing me off stage towards the reporters. I had to think faster than humanly possible. Only one thing was coming to mind and it was the only thing that would secure me in the viewers' eyes. I was going to cry as hard as I could, begging the viewers to not let this be the last time I would ever see Leon. It was my only approach.

* * *

><p><strong>Koy, District 1<strong>

The fame wasn't something I was necessarily used to. The only other time the cameras were focused on me was when I was younger, before my brother died. Though district one never had a problem gaining sponsors, it was still in my best personal interest to make it clear that Vic wasn't at the same level of competition I was. She was good though, flirting with the viewers, blowing kisses towards the crowd. Strangely enough, when the cameras weren't in her direction, she'd stare me down in hopes I'd cower away. However, this was a rare occasion, considering when the cameras weren't on her she'd rip off different layers of clothing revealing smaller articles of cloth beneath them.

Though I'd have to admit she was quite dazzling, it was still a bunch of bullshit, and if it didn't result in my execution, I was about ready to slit the bitch's throat just to show everyone else who they were fucking with.

The vibrant Vic had put her arm around me while I was silently ranting and kissed my cheek, wearing what she called, "A winter Bikini", which was actually just a red two piece.

"More than anything though, it's an honor to be competing with district One's very own Koy."

Was she serious? She stole my lime light, took my sponsor, and expects kissing my ass will earn my forgiveness?

"The girls are all over him at school," she continued, despite the fact that we didn't attend the same school.

This was my best chance. I was going to ensure this girl fell flat on her ass. I was the one who would bring district one to yet another victory, not her.

"I've never seen this girl in my life," I said as coldly as humanly possible.

She rolled her eyes and punched my arm before saying, "Koy doesn't remember, but we attended elementary school together."

"No..." I responded, "No, actually, we didn't. I told you once, I'll tell you again. I've never met a Vittoria Ello."

By the time I made this reply Vic, was already long gone, showing off her body and the persistent smile that could very well win her the games.

* * *

><p><strong>Alex, District 7<strong>

Krystal and I were trying to scramble together and make out a strategy that would suit us both instead of just one or the other. Though completely impossible, it was a silent agreement that we were to align and stay together through the games, not once mentioning the fact that we would eventually have to attempt to kill the other. Microphones were more on Krystal than me, especially after her act of courage.

"Such a small girl for such a big decision? What was going through your mind when you chose to take that big leap from child to adult?"

If this were any other occasion not involving our carefully plotted survival, I'd be laughing my ass off for everyone kept commenting on her size.

"Well," She began, "It had come to mind that boys don't like to be punched in the dick, and considering my size, it almost seems like it was meant to be, ya know?"

This was the comment she gave most reporters when asking about her size. Fearing for their manhood, they'd usually step off.

We mostly played on the fact that we were such valiant sacrifices to the games. Me being the infamous brother of runner-up to the 73'rd Hunger Games. People knew very well who had killed my brother for the win, and you'd have to be blind to miss how hard the bitch ran once my name was called. Lisa Gilmore was her name and her strategy was simple: Appearing to be weak and then aligning herself with my brother until the final moments in which she was to brutally kill him. It was almost sickening to think that she was the victor chosen to mentor Krystal and I.

I was interrupted mid thought by a rather annoying man who was passionate about me shoving his microphone up his ass.

"Now that you'll be competing, do you have yet to realize your brother died for nothing?"

A look of rage filled my face, though I wasn't the one up for the fight nor the one to ever make bold moves in life, I was absolutely enraged at his comment. Starting with a fist to his throat, he was unable to process his move of defense before I gunned him straight in the nose, shoving my palm into it with the motive to break it. After this, I put my leg under his before throwing him to the ground. I was scrawny and small, but fighting was about technique just as much as it was strength. Turning around all cameras were away from Krystal, focused on me. Mouths of reporters dropped at the site of a five foot five teen kicking a rather built man's ass.

* * *

><p><strong>Jonathon, District 3<strong>

Nathalie's tears were wiped from her face and she was now smiling, playing the optimistic role. Me, I decided not to act happy about being chosen to die. Why? Probably because it's almost too believable when you smile and scream, "Yes! I'm ready to die! Jesus take me now!" Although Nathalie's strategy of going from psycho killing machine to crying wimp was working out so well, I decided to take the opposite approach.

When reporters asked about the hug I simply said, "Nathalie was always a good actress," and rolled my eyes. She completely threw off my strategy with her psychotic mood swings! I almost hated the girl for it; she was gonna get me killed! Basically, before you enter the Arena you're put through several preliminaries that will help you gain sponsors. While in the Arena, your bet on like a pack mule and then sent aid by anyone who's decided to sponsor you, therefore showing people that you're a threat was something you needed to do, unless you wanted to be toast on the third day.

Since Nathalie seems weak, I decided I'm going to distance myself from her and let her die, simply because women being on their periods while trying to survive starvation ,the freezing cold, and people trying to kill them, just doesn't mix well.

These were my first impressions, and though I hated him and would refuse to let him help me, this entire thing is just an acting competition. Who cares about how you really play when all is said and done. i know I'll have no problem there. It's the oh-so-fun social part that will be my true demise. So, instead of trying to be a fan favorite, I tried to be a villain. Telling people Nathalie was weak, saying I'd become like my father, and my personal favorite saying that I could simply stomp on someone because I was so tall. Everything that came out of my mouth was despicable. I was so good that I was starting to hate myself.

* * *

><p><strong>Josh, District 8<strong>

When it was all said and done, I did terrible. Instead of discussing the things I should've, I directed conversations to my home life. Talked about my parents that were almost non-exsistant, my cat that didn't deserve to be fed. I'd say I was off to a pretty terrible start and first impressions weren't one's people forgot.

We were then instructed to pack our things before heading to the train. Each train car would hold one male and one female tribute, separating the districts. District Twelve was to be picked up first and so on. When heading home, one thing crossed my mind. Maybe today my parents would be waiting for me. The agonizing minutes until I would get to see them, get to know that they really did care and all my thoughts were stupid and silly.

Maybe this was wrong. Volunteering and offering myself up was stupid. Not wanting to beat myself up over it, I quickly out ruled the thought of death, deciding upon my survival and a coming home party to a family that really cared. Maybe happiness was what I needed, and if mom and dad were to be there more after my victory, then I'd finally have a place to call home, a place that wasn't beneath the Earth. I smiled at the thought before sprinting home.

Things were finally going to change, the games only being a simple road block in my path through destiny. That was when night fell and I was finally left alone with my thoughts, when my reality became a nightmare, one that was unavoidable. I didn't know much of anything about The Hunger Games. People trained all their lives for something and I just jumped into it after fourteen years wasted. So what if my parents cared? Would they just wait for me when I wasn't even going to return? Could I actually be saying my good byes for good? It was a terrible thought, one that didn't have to come true because I couldn't be saying my good byes forever. It was literally impossible. Though it was around the entire district by now, my parents surely knowing of my sacrifice, nobody was home.

* * *

><p><strong>Jonathon, District 3<strong>

It felt as though I was already living the real life rerun of today's events, holding a sobbing body in my arms. Only this time it was my mother's. She begged, no, pleaded for me to stay. Her mindset wasn't working right. I suspected that she thought I was either a peacekeeper or even worse, President Snow himself. She made me promise to come back, promise I'd survive. Though it's not in my nature to take things to heart, or really take time to think about things, it felt like I was cornered and being forced to rip my armor off. No longer protected by my shield. No more hiding behind a safety zone. I was completely vulnerable.

I regretted it, killing Nathalie. That's what I did, isn't it? I told interviewers how weak she was, how stupid she is. Though I had only spoken the truth, maybe it would've been better to keep my big mouth shut. Or lie. Either way, it was all said and done; tonight, all tributes, as well as the rest of Panam, would watch me talk trash about my ally. The killing machine would take note of my brutality and not think twice about killing me. Though I didn't like it, I had to accept it. This game was going to change me, and not for the better. As soon as my name was called, the second my foot left the stage, I became somebody else. You couldn't survive the games being yourself, not without being a career, which, coming from District Three, I was not.

I continued telling my mother that it would be alright, the same thing I whispered in Nathalie's ear before stabbing her in the back. Any chances she had left would be gone at nine o' clock tonight. Was winning all that mattered to me? Could the capitol change me that easily? For someone that was against their restraints so much, I sure as hell played their bitch easily enough. Maybe if dying gave me purpose, it wouldn't be so bad, but the only purpose for any of our deaths was to show that we were just puppets in a never ending game.

Holding my mother tightly, it was decided. I wasn't going to die. Not in the Hunger Games. It was no longer an option for me. I portrayed an ass to the media, that I can't change, however, if there was one way I could make it up now, I was going to show the capitol what was really going through my mind. I was going to show the capitol that I plotted against Nathalie for my own benefit, not theirs. More than anything, my survival would show that they didn't own me.

* * *

><p><strong>Haley, District 11<strong>

Matt Lalle. That was the name of the boy who was chosen to represent the district along with myself. He was kissing his mother good bye at the station, the train waiting for our arrival. During the interviews he told the reporters he would be coming home, because him and his girlfriend we're expecting a child come June. I knew he was lying, for even the girlfriend was not to be seen. His body was very slender, eyes a dark brown. Somehow, he looked strangely familiar yet I'm positive that I've never spoken to the boy in my entire life.

His edge on the competition would be not only his marvelous acting, but also because of his brains. Every line he delivered must've been planned for years in case of the unfortunate circumstance that was now unfolding. It was all executed so perfectly.

"I'll fight for my girl... and my child." One tear rolled down his cheek, only one. He was going to be a fan favorite, I could tell. Then there was me, a crying, babbling, dumb girl. I hated myself more and more every second. Reporters would ask how I felt about getting: "my boyfriend into this." I'd get angry and tell them he wasn't my boyfriend and that we were just friends. It probably just made me look really rude in the long run.

Matt's mother planted a wet, sloppy kiss on his forehead. My parents were really angry with me for the whole Mockingjay incident. The most that I got was a wave of the hand. This boy though, I wish the cameras were here for him because you could tell by all those tears, that boy was golden and he was to be loved by anyone and everyone in sight. It was heartbreaking to watch. In the next few weeks, he could very likely be dead.

After his good byes were finished, he turned to me and asked, "Ready to go?", while wiping the tears away from his face. Instead of replying, I simply turned towards the eleventh train car and walked in, hurrying to my room, away from the golden boy who was soon to be broken. As soon as my face was hidden from all cameras, I began to cry for the millionth time that day. The one thing I refused to do was to talk to that boy. Not today anyways. Everything that came out of my mouth was a lie. This morning I told Leon everything would be okay, and now we're both separated by a simple train car, waiting to die.

* * *

><p><strong>Josh, District 8<strong>

Nourhan was crying now, not as bold as she once seemed. No words were exchanged this time. I don't think she wanted to say her good byes. Her skin was dark skinned like her mothers, hair just as black. Turning to face me, I truly saw it. Truly saw her eyes; the look they gave almost broke me. Almost. It was a look of compassion for not only me, but for the district. For the district that would soon be forced to watch two of their tributes die.

* * *

><p><strong>Alex, District 7<strong>

Krystal sat beside me and the two of us were crying now. I just beat up a reporter. I wonder if Panam will like me now. The houses were fleeing away from us as the train moved, not one word exchanged between the two of us. My best friend, my sister, my sanctuary. All those things were sitting by me in a human host and all those things were about to leave me. I was going to have to kill her, and no matter how much I wanted the thought to go away, it never would. Instead, I redirected my thoughts to a long awaited encounter.

* * *

><p><strong>Jonathon, District 3<strong>

Nathalie was crying yet again. I hoped my tears wouldn't come, and they didn't. Not now anyways. I wanted to stay strong for the girl I had so brutally betrayed, for both the past and the future.

* * *

><p><strong>Koy, District 1<strong>

Being District One, Vic and I were the last tributes to hop aboard train Looney Morons. Combing my hair, I looked into a mirror before being thrown against a wall by Ms. Ello herself.

"What was that all about?" I asked, before sarcastically adding, "I thought you were a sexy ditz."

"Do you want to die?" she replied, "Because based on your stunts out there, I'd say you volunteered as a death wish, not out of honor for your district!" I'm sure she was referring to me calling her out on her blatant lies. Whatever though, if I wanted to, I could've played sex appeal just as well as she had. Attractive tributes may get more sponsors but they're hunted by tributes for not appearing to be a threat. Based on Vic's strength though, I'd say she was very miss leading looks wise. Chick's a bitch.

"Now open your dumb Dutch ears and listen good!" she demanded, pressing her body against mine in fury, "This game began as soon as you were born! Do you want sixteen years of your life wasted or do you want to make something of yourself?"

"I-"

"It was a rhetorical question, don't even attempt answering it!" she was deathly serious about this, "Of course you want to win. You're just like all the other douche bags in our district!"

"Who the hell do you think you are?" I asked, infuriated by such a bold statement, "Do you realize what you're getting yourself into? You're all looks and no show. Keep exhilarating your energy on measly sponsors and you'll be the first!"

I made sure to spray spit through my gritted teeth at every vowel. She was dumb and despicable, just because she was a career like me didn't mean I wasn't going to kill her. She knew nothing. Foolish girl, if you ask me.

"Do you realize what you'r getting yourself into?" she mocked me, through gritted teeth, now showering me with her spit. Bitch had nerve, especially considering the circumstances.

"You're a simple minded boy who jumped into The Hunger Games before he was even ready," she continued, "I've been watching you, Koy Darin, and illegal hunting isn't going to cut it once you're in that arena! You and your big head need to realize that. Without sponsors, you will be nothing, and that's exactly what I was accomplishing for you in that interview. That is until you went all high and mighty and fucked it all up!"

"Your looks ain't gonna cut it either princess!" I retaliated, "You need to show those bastards what you're made of, not how well you can work a pole!"

That's when she did it. The girl suddenly pulled a knife out of her back pocket, obviously intended for the conversation all along. Ready to off her already, I made my stance, however, all she did was turn, throwing the knife at a nearby wall.

"I want to look weak," she explained, "I want them to come for me, and when they do, that's when I'll show them what I'm made of. What about you? You made of spears that can't even strike a heart? You're all talk."

The girl walked away, leaving the knife for me to examine. The knife that perfectly struck a fly, pinning it to the wall. Though against the rules and certainty securing my death, nothing in that moment mattered more than proving her wrong. Angrily plucking the knife at the wall, I threw it at her as she walked away from me, back turned. No one one-upped me.

* * *

><p><strong>Alex, Train Car 7<strong>

Interviews were about to come on the air, but that was the least of my worries. Though I was now certain of my death in the coming of days, I was waiting on one thing that would come from it. One person that was to introduce herself tonight; one kill I was looking forward to get out of the way of the so many to come. It was not often in my life that I was so angry, but this moment, at this time... It was the only thing I could think about. She disappeared the moment the interviews started, but now they were airing and being our coach, she could not run from this.

Krystal and I were both escorted to the dining hall in which we would be served while watching highlights of the day. I, for one, had no intention of rewatching the horror that I had just lived through. Instead, I was to relive the nightmare that continued to haunt me for four years of my life. Not another night would I dream this dream if I had a say in it.

I remember her beauty, her smile, her lips. Everything about her was so flawless and so breathtaking. My brother had gained the kill count, his killer the sponsors. Her hand was trembling and eyes avoiding mine, talking just loud enough for a whisper to be detected, "I'm your mentor, Lisa Gillmore."

Tears began to erupt from me at once, even in the dining room there were cameras, your own room being the only privacy given by the game makers. That's what I wanted. Viewers deserved an answer, I deserved an answer. Gripping my kitchen knife in hand, I screamed, tears flying from my face as I ran towards the girl. Krystal jumped up from her seat and let out a squeal, the first word I'd heard her spoken since our arrival at the station. I jumped on Lisa, knocking her straight on her ass.

"Look at me!" I screamed, voice filled with agony as well as anger, "You're going to look me in the eyes and you're going to tell me what he did to deserve it!"

She still kept her eyes away from mine. Coward. That's all she was. She stayed silent, staring off into the distance, not wanting to answer the question at hand. This wasn't acceptable, not with me.

"Tell me what you did to him!"

This time, she let a single tear escape from her face, just one. My knife was perfectly positioned under her eye, ready to slice it out, just like I was preparing dinner back home.

"How dare you!" I continued, "After all the misery you've caused! You tell them what you did to him! You tell Panam every damn detail!"

Krystal's shrieks had stopped. She stood there silently, knowing of this day I'd been waiting for since his televised death.

"They already know..." Lisa said under her breath. Again, unacceptable.

"Remind them!" I screamed louder, spitting in her face.

"I...I..." Her tears were pathetic, her stutters revolving.

"Tell them! Tell them everything! Tell them how he loved you, how he'd do anything for you! Tell them how he fed you and saved your life! How he killed for you, an innocent soul condemned himself to hell for YOU!"

This time she was sobbing, this time she looked me in the eyes, fixating them upon me.

"Your eyes..." She started, even more cowardly than before. She looked away at once. I could kill her now if I wanted to. It's all that mattered after all. All of Panam favored my brother; he was the preferred contestant that season. Fighting his breath out, hunting for food, skinning the animals, everything he did was literally for her, nothing for himself. We thought he was playing her, my family and I, but then it happened. He kissed her and that's when we knew how the 73'rd Hunger Games would end.

"How dare you..." Her voice was unmistakably angry, unmistakably heart broken, but most of all it was unmistakably regretful. As she knocked me off of her, pinning me to the ground, it really hit me. The words that came out of her mouth were unexpected but certainly sincere. Tears pouring onto me, she said. "I loved him!"

* * *

><p><strong>Jonathon, train Car 3<strong>

The interviews were just beginning, Panam's Anthem now playing alongside the signature seal. My palms were very sweaty. I was so nervous about the scenes of me digging a knife into Nathalie's back. I'm not the kind of guy with a guilty conscience, but now I'd walk through hell to change today's events. For a brutal killing machine, she sure smiled a lot, I'll admit that. She seemed really innocent too, any more innocent and I'll have to cut out those beady little eyes of hers so she stops staring at me.

Before interviews started, we were forced to relive the torturous yet "joyous" Reapings, If only I could relive my death when that airs too.

The career tributes looked quite interesting this year. Koy Darin and Vittoria Ello were the District One tributes. Neither looked as nearly intimidating as they did attractive. Unless they plan on murdering us with a lap dance, then they've done a good job hiding their talents, because both seemed pretty full of themselves. The boy moreso than the girl, I suppose.

The other careers that caught my eye were a rather intimidating Noah Blastire; a guy named Eric from District Four, who If I didn't know any better would suspect he was an old man trying to be young again by entering himself into The Hunger Games; and then there was Samantha Halls, who Nathalie supposedly met while delivering peacemaker uniforms to the capitol.

While our reaping was recapped, I noticed nothing out of the ordinary. You know, same old same old "We're gonna die" kinda thing. However, what was shocking was when a young girl from district seven volunteered, therefore taking her sister's place, as well as two tributes forced to compete by President Snow himself. There was one boy who stuck out the most though, Josh was it? Probably because he didn't look particularly strong nor talented enough to volunteer, yet he did anyways. Probably because he wanted to die, only reasonable excuse there is to do something that high on the moron meter.

That was it for the reapings, however, and now the horrendous time was here. The time to watch the interviews. Out of everything I could've done in that moment, I simply shut my eyes, and shut them hard. Praying Nathalie would forgive me for what I'd done, praying her family would understand my course of actions. Then when her tears started, I prayed that I would survive to apologize to her parents for ripping away any chances she had at winning the games.

* * *

><p><strong>Koy, Train Car 1<strong>

Vic had turned around, swiftly catching the knife with ease. The knife had wizzed past my head too quickly to catch, not realizing she had thrown it back until it hit the wall.

"Missed." I said with a mocking grin on my face.

"Nope," she snapped back, "I've waited seventeen years to compete in these games. Why the hell would I be so stupid to throw it all away?"

God, this bitch really pisses me off, thinking she always had the upper hand; that she was better than me!

"You saw me hit a fly in midair," she continued, "if I wanted to hit your big head, I would've. I just needed to know what you could do, and now that I know, it's almost humorous that you volunteered."

With that, the girl left me in the train car, alone for the truth to sink in. As much as I despised the girl, she was right. Without the skill she honed, I would die rather quickly.

* * *

><p><strong>Haley, Train Car 11<strong>

As I was sitting next to Matt and watching the interviews, my heart was slowly breaking. All night, Matt wouldn't shut up with his stupid trivia questions like we were on Who Wants to be a Millionaire, and if I failed to answer one, he'd shake his head and start speaking into his imaginary microphone.

As the show went on, I was forced to watch the reoccurrence of the entire day, only my entire speech about how dictator snow ruined the thirteen districts was cut out. This made me look like a complete and utter idiot who broke the rules and was sobbing because of what she did. It didn't even look like I harvested feelings for Leon, which is the outcome that I had hoped for. Maybe then people would want to watch a good love story and would sponsor us, but all else had failed. To make matters worse. Leon's interview really split my heart in two. He trash talked me like no other.

"That whiny bitch?" was his reply when the interviewer asked about the events that led up to our reaping, "She condemned me to this hell hole! Rebelling against the capitol wasn't exactly something I plotted out while lying in bed last night!"

As he continued, he blamed the entire misfortunes of the day on me. Telling reporters how much he tried to stop me and how selfish I was, letting President Snow beat him because I was too much of a coward to take credit where it was due. His eye was black, his body limping as he walked. I looked like the biggest bitch Panam's ever seen. I wonder if they'll enjoy watching me die?

* * *

><p><strong>Josh, Train Car 8<strong>

Nourhan and I discussed many things during the show, neither of us wanting to relive such torment. However my eye still caught bits and pieces of the interviews. Though looking heroic at first, the interviews absolutely ruined me. I could tell Nourhan was noticing how depressed I was getting, because she stopped talking as night fell.

Night. Night was fine with her, but it's silent. Now I'm with myself. It's all about me isn't it? Stupid. I'm so stupid as to think night had anything to do with it. Night wasn't the reason things fell silent. It wasn't the reason why my parents hated me. More than anything else, it wasn't the reason that I didn't belong here. I was. There was a piece missing from me, so I ran into The Hunger Games, eager to fix it. Now that ,y mentor has barged into the room, drunk and in a fucking wheel chair, I get it. I get what I did! I fucked myself over! I gave myself to a pack of wolves so I could feel wanted in one way or another. The reporters on television were snickering at my answers being redirected to cats, Nourhan staring at me like I was some kind of freak, and the crippled drunk laughing at my answers and mocking me! I now know for sure that I bought myself a ticket. A ticket to die.

I didn't wait to get to my room to cry. None of it mattered anymore. Nothing mattered! I threw the covers over my head, waiting to fall asleep, but it wasn't working! My body wouldn't rest and my mind wouldn't be set at ease. Nothing I did ever came out right! Tears were rolling down my cheeks. No solutions were in my head, no plans to keep me alive; just pain that harvested inside.

To let it out, I screamed; screamed as though I was dying or being tortured. As loud as I could, punching the walls, I screamed and screamed. Not stopping, not holding back. At first it frightened me to realize there was a presence in my room, only to learn it was Nourhan. The Egyptian girl had witnessed the entire incident, and was now at my bedside running her hands through my hair, calming me with soothing whispers as I sobbed in her arms.

It was a while, but she slowly and surely began to cry. That night we both had realized that we were going to die.

* * *

><p><strong>Jonathon, Train Car 3<strong>

I was now making a break for my room, trying to separate my elf from Nathalie, as well as my father, who had placed his hand on my shoulder in an attempt for comfort. I refuse to do it. I refused to let this get to me. Pulling the sheets over my head, the gears in my head began to move. I'd have plenty of time to feel sorry for myself after the games were over, but I made my myself a promise, and that was to win the games. A promise I wouldn't break. Nathalie Meielle was nothing more than another one of my victims, my father not a father. Rather, he was my mentor. Nothing else. Emotions weren't running this game. I was.

* * *

><p><strong>Alex, Train Car 7<strong>

Angrily dragging me to my feet, Lisa hesitated before she spoke, "You have to kill her, you know. Just like I killed Derek. You have to kill Krystal."

This was the first time it was said out loud. We both knew it, but now it was declared. No turning back, no avoiding it. I looked at Terra with a mixture of disgust and hatred. Her eyes read it all. If she could take back what she said, she would've, but she couldn't. Looking at Krystal, I tried to find the words to get us out of this; to make it all okay.

But the words didn't come. No more day dreaming. No more running. Screams and cries were heard from the train car next to us. We then followed, not caring that all of Panam was watching, observing our weakness. Gripping each other hard and fearing the moment we let go, the moment we became enemies. Lisa hovered her hand above us, trying to gather the courage for comfort. That didn't come either. Instead, she silently cried from across the train car.

* * *

><p><strong>Haley, Train Car 11<strong>

I heard a boy crying, no, sobbing. That's what I was now doing. I needed it. Leon used me up and spit me out. Matt was now standing at my doorway, demanding we talked. Refusing over and over, throwing my sheets at him, the golden boy lost his shine. Picking me up and throwing me over his back, he was much stronger than he appeared. He threw me down onto the ground, knocking the wind out of me. It was then he finally spoke, the first time sternness had entered his voice this entire day and it wasn't an act:

"Do you want to live or are you ready to die?"

Using all the strength I had left, I stood up pressing my chest to his and yelling as loud as I could in his face, "You know nothing! To the viewers, I'm the heartbreaker and you're the expectant father!"

Screaming and cursing to each other back and forth, it slowly came to me. It came to me how I knew this boy, and then he held out his hand to reveal an identical pin to mine. A Mockingjay Pin. My voice was silenced at this and his became soothing once again:

"If you're ready to die, then you're ready five years late."

I knew what he was talking about, even if I didn't want to believe it. I was the reason his sister was dead. I killed Matt Lalle's sister.

* * *

><p><strong>Koy, Train Car 1<strong>

I was extremely enraged after the interviews, rushing through the dining hall ever so infuriated. No matter how much I hated her, how much I despised her, I needed Vittoria Ello's help. Slamming my fists on the table, barely missing her mashed potatoes I spoke.

"Help me. I don't care what I've done and I don't care what it is you want in return. Just help me kill the boy! Help me kill Alex Olivers..."

* * *

><p>To Be Continued...<p> 


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